


Seeds

by ghostknight



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (also celebrian is trans too it probably wont get mentioned in the narrative, Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Moving On, Trans Elrond, age gap (? does it count if they're both immortal elves? idk they're both adults), but i just wanted to make that clear), i've decided they both get to be trans bcs i want more trans men in fiction goddammit!, trans lindir, trans masc author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostknight/pseuds/ghostknight
Summary: Lindir leaves his parents cottage for the first time to find his place in Imladris, but when he gets overwhelmed and has to escape the bustle of the last homely house, he meets Elrond in the overgrown remnants of Celebrian's garden. Perhaps this chance meeting is good for both of them in ways they would never suspect.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Seeds

It has been years since anyone had touched this garden, though Elrond walked through it frequently. It had grown wild in places and withered in others. Bushes and trees overshadow and occasionally tangle over the path, choking out any smaller flowers and grasses, which once grew there. If Elrond were in good humor he might liken it to Mirkwood, in both its untamed nature and in the dark melancholy, which hangs like spider webs between the branches. However, Elrond is rarely in good humor when he walks here, and, perhaps, in this way, it is like Mirkwood too.

Elrond stops before his wife, looking up at her, heart heavy because she never meets his gaze. He considered the statue quite beautiful once (though it certainly couldn’t hold a candle to Celebrian herself), now its once serene watchfulness has become baleful, as it stares out at a house that has lost its lady.

He is busy enough most days that he doesn’t have time to dwell on her loss, but then again, traces of her presence are everywhere. Sometimes he can hardly look around his home without some thought of her worming its way into his mind like creeping vines. So he comes here, this garden, so different than it once was. And as painful as it is to be here for him, it is also peaceful. When the grief wells up within him like a flood, he prefers to be within the embrace of the plants, which have grown--from and then out-- of her influence.

He moves past the statue slowly and makes his winding way through the labyrinth of overgrown paths. And though he takes his time he never stops again as he walks, until he hears a rustle from a particularly thorny rosebush at his side.

***

The journey had not been an easy one for Lindir and he is happy to have arrived. He did not, however, expect to run into trouble so quickly. He hadn’t thought it would be simple to leave his parents hearth, that little cottage in the forest, but the distance to Imladris was much longer than what he’d imagined. The furthest he’d ever gone in his five hundred years was the small nearby town of men with which he and his parents occasionally traded.

Now he was exhausted; his body, despite its natural elven resilience was unused to walking for such a distance. And he was glad to be within the borders of the Last Homely House, but there were so many people there.

He had followed a group of merchants through the gates, and the valley which had looked so gorgeous from above now towered over him on each side in a great and intimidating embrace of earth. He threw his gaze around wildly, awed by the architecture and natural beauty of the place. In his distraction, he didn’t realize he was being swept up in a crowd of elves and no sooner than he was surrounded he felt he couldn’t breathe. Dread flooded his gut and rose quickly, soon crowding up in chest, pushing a tingling fear into his fingers. He forced himself to take in a rough gasp of air, but he was being jostled a bit by others around him and a panic set in.

Just as he feels ready to curl up onto the street and just let the elves around him trample him a hand lands on each of his shoulders, and, suddenly, two very similar faces appear in his field of vision.

“You’re new right?” says one.

“You don’t look too good-” then the other.

“Are you alright?” in unison.

Their voices seemed almost too loud to Lindir, their words buzzed in his ears. Along with the physical contact which burned and their eyes on him, it was too much. In a burst of adrenaline, he turns tail and sprints away, squeezing between people and shoving others out of his way when he has to. Anything to just get away. He cares so much about putting space between himself and the crowd and so little about where he’s going that it doesn’t take long before he’s lost.

***

Somehow he’s gotten himself into a garden, if one could call it that. It’s wild and unkempt, but it's much closer to what he’s used to and so he crawls into the nearest rosebush and breathes deeply. The scent of earth and greenery fills his lungs and relaxes his racing heartbeat. Bringing his knees to his chest he begins to hum a shaky tune. A lullaby his mother had taught him. He starts to feel his panic disperse and the tension he carried in his muscles sinks into the dirt below him.  
Suddenly, a hand parts the branches of the bush, and Lindir startles, back in the grips of fear and moves to shuffle backwards. He had become so lost in his head that he hadn’t noticed the figure stop and crouch before his hiding place.

The ellon in front of him seems to notice Lindir’s nervousness and raises a calming hand. “What are you doing here? This garden is forbidden to enter.”

Lindir’s first thought is to ask why this elf was in the garden if it was forbidden, but he bites back the words. Surely, he had a good reason, likely a better one than Lindir’s own. “I...am lost” he admits, “I’ve just arrived here in Imladris, you see, and, well, I was a bit overwhelmed. Very overwhelmed, actually…” He glances away, embarrassed.

The elf’s grey eyes softened from the chilly distance they had been appraising him with from before. “Well then,...” He offers Lindir a hand, which Lindir tentatively accepts as he is pulled to his feet, “allow me to welcome you to Imladris. I am Elrond Peredhel.”

Lindir is sure his eyes widen to a comical degree as he rushes to bow, as he recognizes the name of the lord of the house, “Oh! My apologies--” but a gentle hand on his shoulder stops him.

“That’s not necessary,” a calm smile graces Elrond’s face, which drops as he examines Lindir’s face closely. The hand on his shoulder drops down his arm to softly overturn Lindir’s palm, “...you’re injured” and sure enough there were bloody scrapes lining his hands, and he felt the sting of the scratches that were likely on his face as well. Lindir winces. “What is it that you are called?”

“Lindir”

“Lindir, please allow me to tend to your cuts, I’m sorry you came to injury here in...my garden.”

“Ah, no I couldn’t possibly let you do that,...t-though I appreciate your offer, of course!”

“Please, I am both Lord and healer in this house, I would not have anyone come to harm here without offering my services.” Lindir blinks at him, owlishly. The light here, softened by the greenery suits the angles of the lord’s face well, extending his regality to an ethereal degree.

“Oh...well, I suppose that’s alright then.” How could he refuse?

“Here, come this way, and perhaps you can tell me how you came to be hiding inside the thorniest rosebush in Imladris.” For a moment, Lindir thought the lord meant to poke fun at him, but the twinkling in his eye and the gentle smile gracing his face mostly just set Lindir at ease, and so he relaxed as he followed Elrond through the garden.

“I don’t much mind thorns, as it turns out I...find crowds are much more frightening.”

“From where do you hail?”

“Ah, the forest west of Bree.”

Elrond looked at him quizzically, “I was unaware there was any elven settlement there…”

“Oh, no. My parents prefer to dwell alone, and raised me much in the same way.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Well, my first adventure away from home hasn’t gone as well as I’d hoped.”

“I’m sure you would adjust to the change of pace here over time if you choose to stay with us. You’re welcome to stay as long as you desire, and perhaps you will find you enjoy it here.” Elrond’s voice, despite its gentleness strikes hope in Lindir’s chest. Perhaps he will find a place for himself here in Imladris after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic floating around in my drafts for forever, but I originally wrote it to have a chill fic that I didn't stress about, so I decided to just screw it and post it, hopefully this motivates me to work on it some more lol.


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